


open my eyes

by orphan_account



Series: this is my life [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning After, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald fully expects Jim to have left, perhaps even before the sun came up, regretful and disgusted with himself, unable to face the man beside him. Hell, even Jim expected that.</p><p>Yet the warm body pressed beside him and the arm slung round his shoulders, pulling him in, suggests that isn't the case at all.</p><p>---</p><p>Jim is still here and attempting to figure out why. Oswald is bitter and has something to say. They both want coffee; and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open my eyes

Rare Gotham sunlight streams in through the window. 

Oswald fully expects Jim to have left, perhaps even before the sun came up, regretful and disgusted with himself, unable to face the man beside him. Hell, even Jim expected that.

Yet the warm body pressed beside him and the arm slung round his shoulders, pulling him in, suggests that isn't the case at all.  
Jim is still asleep. Oswald props himself up on one elbow to observe, this being most likely his only chance to do so. 

Jim had unbuttoned his shirt just so that a glimpse of his skin is visible. His lips are parted slightly, chest rising and falling steadily, hair messed and falling in golden strands about his head. One arm is tucked protectively round Oswald, the other resting loosely on his stomach. 

He looks beautiful, peaceful like this.

The detective opens one eye, then the other, watching him carefully.

"Morning," Oswald offers.

Jim keeps observing him, maybe going through in his mind how he got here, or why he is still here. 

"Morning," he responds eventually, and his tired smile almost makes Oswald's heart melt.

He finds it painfully embarrassing, but slightly amusing, that he acts like a lovestruck teenager around Jim. He has never harbored so many emotions for anyone else, let alone show each one plainly as the sun rests now in the clear sky.

"Would you, um... like me to make you breakfast? Coffee?" Oswald asks awkwardly, still in the same position observing the detective.

"Coffee," comes the soft answer.

He shifts and is about to move away when Jim catches his arm.

"Wait."

Oswald raises his eyebrows expectantly.  
Jim cups his face and pulls him down for a kiss. It's chaste and quick, but inevitably turns more passionate when Oswald whimpers involuntarily. Jim's fingers dig into his bare shoulders as he pushes him back down into the bed.

Oswald's hands fumble ineptly with the rest of the buttons of Jim's shirt, discarding it beside them. He grips Jim's hair and kisses him harder, with more urgency.

"Oswald," Jim pants. "Slow down. Slow down." 

Oswald's breathing is ragged and his pupils are dilated as he looks up at the detective.

"You want to?" 

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

" _Yes_ ," Oswald raises his voice self-consciously. 

"Good, 'cause I wanna blow you."

Oswald laughs, well, it's more of a damn giggle and if that isn't the worst sound he's ever made.

Jim moves to tug down Oswald's boxers, letting his erection bob against his stomach, flushed red and leaking precum. He closes his eyes, feeling shivers of embarrassment and arousal course through him.

"Look at me."

He opens his eyes to see Jim's lips close around his cock, eliciting a soft moan. The detective takes him down his throat, swallowing reflexively, making Oswald gasp and curl his fingers in the sheets.

"Jim!"

Jim laps at his cock-head, swallows him back down again wrapping Oswald in the slick, tight heat of his throat.

Sure, he's been fucked, and given a few blowjobs of his own, but no one has ever blown him. It's exquisite, made sweeter by the impossible fact that this is _Jim, his friend, his enemy, the one man in all of Gotham that everyone adores or despises (and sometimes a little mix of both)_. 

With a cry, Oswald comes, hips jerking his release. Jim takes it all, smirks and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

The Penguin lies back, panting softly, one hand over his eyes. 

"Was that good?" Jim asks after a minute. 

Oswald sits up with a little difficulty and fixes him with a dazed and disbelieving stare. 

"Is that... are you serious?"

A slow grin spreads across Jim's face, and Oswald can't help return it, cheeks flushed.  
Jim moves up to sit beside him, tugging him closer with an arm round his shoulders, warm skin against skin.

"You-" Oswald starts. 

"Later," Jim murmurs, slipping back into that blissful half-sleep state. He sighs minutely and closes his eyes. 

"Do you regret this?" Oswald asks suddenly.

Jim doesn't open his eyes. "Probably."

The Penguin falls silent, pulse fast and heart sinking. "B-because I don't. I can't believe I... you..." he pauses, takes a deep breath. "I've wanted this for a long time."

"What's 'this'?"

Oswald huffs, looking away, deeply resentful and scared of the fact. "You," he says quietly, eventually. "I wanted you."

He glances back to see Jim studying him intently. The detective leans up and presses a soft kiss to his lips, taking him aback.

"Well, here I am," he says ruefully. 

The slighter man rolls his eyes.

"Oswald?"

Jim doesn't often say his name, but it's irritatingly thrilling when he does. He doesn't think it's fair that he is the one completely, infuriatingly infatuated and Jim merely sees him as a casual fuck, perhaps not even that.

"I love you," Oswald tells him, almost angrily, like in retaliation. 

Jim looks surprised for a second. "I didn't think you'd say that."

"Well, I _did,_ " is the bitter, raw answer.

They lie together in silence for a few moments. 

"... About that coffee..." Jim murmurs lightly, half-smiling.

Oswald sighs. He shifts, trying very hard not to fall. 

Four minutes later, he brings the detective his coffee.

"Mm," is the approval he receives. And then-  
"I, um. Return your sentiment. I guess."

Oswald stands stock still, staring at him.

"You... what?"

Jim averts his eyes, takes a sip of ridiculously scalding beverage. "You heard me."

"What are you saying? ... You love me?"

Jim looks at him for what seems like forever, clearly battling with many emotions. But the truth wins out, because of course he loves Oswald. Love comes in so many forms, everyone learns this- but wanting to protect someone so desperately, wishing you weren't on opposite sides, missing them, worrying about them, denying your feelings about them, wanting to kiss them and touch them- Jim cannot lie to himself. He loves the King of Gotham.

Eventually, he takes another mouthful of coffee and says, resignedly, honestly, simply-

"Yeah."

Oswald smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> what the hell is this another 11pm fic typed quickly up from prompt scraps on my phone


End file.
